Midnight Confessions
by Sunshine423
Summary: Batgirl Babs has a little misadventure with Penguin and Nightwing ow ow... while Batman is out of town.


Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Summary: Barbara Gordon is Batgirl and is narrating the story. This story takes us through one weekend in the life of Batgirl/Barbara.

Okay, you're not going to understand the title if you haven't heard the song "Midnight Confessions" by the Grass Roots. Well, actually, you don't even have to listen to the song, just be aware that there is a song called "Midnight Confessions" sung by the Grass Roots. But now that I've explained all that, you know that there's a song "Midnight Confessions" sung by the Grass Roots. Yay. Now, you can read the story.

* * *

**MIDNIGHT CONFESSIONS  
----------------**

Don't you hate it when things go wrong? Especially after you've worked so hard at keeping them from doing that - go wrong, that is.

I mean, take this robbery for example. Three guys - Thug One, Thug Two, Thug Blue - go through all this trouble - figuring out when and where the guards would be at which time and how to get somewhere else at the same time - to steal this bird - not even a bird, just the wing - and expected a successful heist. That's two weeks worth of surveillance, some creative master planning, and probably thirty bucks worth of black clothes - each. (Black spandex and ski masks just aren't as cheap as they used to be.)

It's too bad. All that time, money and brain power wasted. The one thing they didn't count on was me. And that's one thing you don't want to forget.

"We got 30 seconds, boys."

I dashed behind them to get on their left - typically, their weaker side.

One of the thugs noticed me. Nice one, Barbara. "Did you guys hear somethin'?" Well, not me _specifically_, I guess. "You... you don't think it's the Bat, do you?"

Thug Two scoffed. "Don't be stupid. He ain't gonna bother with somethin' as _insignificant_ as this." Ooh... big word. Someone's been using LeapFrog.

Thug One took out a switchblade and used it to pry open the door to the circuit board. I guess they were hoping to turn off the laser security system. I mean, the door said, "Laser security system circuit board." So, I can only speculate.

"You know, I heard he's got wings." Thug Blue flapped his arms up and down. "Like a real bat."

Thug Two snickered and pulled Blue's arms to his sides. "Stop. You look like an idiot."

Blue didn't take that so well.

He shoved Two into One causing One to turn around angrily. "Knock it off! You wanna get us caught?"

Blue and Two took position again and One returned to the circuit board. His hand trembled as he slowly moved his blade toward the blue wire. It ran parallel to the red and yellow wires. The yellow one would set off the alarm, but the blue one would turn off the laser detectors. I wasn't sure what the red one did. For all I knew, it was just for show.

But what was strange was that the thug knew to go for the blue one. All buildings have different security systems so it was impossible to know which color wire would be the right one. These weren't the type of thieves to do a check on something like that. They had to have somebody above them. Somebody who really ran the show.

I pushed my thoughts aside. Thug One was about to cut the wire. I had to be patient. I had to wait for just... the right... moment... Now!

He jerked his hand back, with the batarang still wedged in his palm. The sirens went off, pounding the high-pitched sound into our skulls. Blaring red lights lit up the area like a photographer's developing room. Not enough light to read in, but just enough see whose face I was kicking.

I ran into a jump kick, sending thug Two into a collection of oyster fossils. My biology professor gave a two hour lecture on them. I can't say I was all that disappointed to see them go.

I turned to face Blue when it hit me - Blue, that is. He may be dumb as a post, but he could probably bench press the Batmobile.

He picked me up off the ground and started talking into my face. I swear, of all the days to forget my gas mask at home...

"Oh, I see. No Bats, just his widdle girly."

God, I hate it when bad guys start talking baby to me. Hello? I'm in college, now.

"Hey, a girl can do just as much as a guy. Maybe even more."

"Oh yeah?"

"Well," I shrugged - which wasn't easy since he still held me above the ground, "I have not inhibitions about doing _this_."

He looked confused for a second there - when I said "inhibitions" - but that confusion turned to an expression of pain as soon as my foot met up with his groin. (Hey, you know he should've been wearing a cup.)

Thug One had run off while Blue was busy with me. But now that Blue was busy with something else, I chased after him. I followed him to a broken window. Glass on the outside so it was probably him jumping out and not some vandal throwing a rock in. I considered trying to find him, since he couldn't have gone too far, but I had a better chance I finding him later. After I'd collected some evidence and maybe done some interrogating.

When I returned to the scene, the museum guards had hand-cuffed the thieves I'd left for them and were leading them out. The Gotham Police had also just arrived. Only Renee Montoya and her partner, Crispus Allen, but they were already joting down notes and processing the scene.

I guess if I couldn't gather information personally, I could just let them do it then eavesdrop. So, I hid in the shadows, like a good Batman trainee, and watched Montoya and Allen move around the room.

"There must've been another one. They still seem to have nabbed something."

Montoya bent down and read the small plate beneath the empty, glass case. " 'Snow Owl's Wing.' " Montoya stood up straight and furrowed her brow. "Why would anyone take that? It probably isn't worth $20 on E-bay."

Allen shook his head. "No clue. We got a room full of gold and jewels next door - including that diamond bird worth 70 grand - but then they take some dead - correction - _half _of some dead animal, leaving all that other stuff untouched. Weird."

Montoya started scribbling in her notepad. "Perps must've wanted it for more than money."

"Personal?"

"Absolutely."

That's all I needed to hear.

* * *

"You're leaving? Now!"

Bruce didn't even look at me. "Wayne Enterprises is meeting with Lex Corp. this weekend and I want to be there. Last time I let Lex run the show, he started building an arsenal that somehow wound up blowing apart his own building." I saw the start of a smile but it quickly vanished and he finished packing batarangs into his briefcase. "Superman also requested my aid."

"With Lois?" I thought I'd said it quiet enough so he wouldn't hear me but the icy glare made it clear I hadn't.

I tried to disguise my mistake by changing the subject. "And Tim will be gone, too?"

Bruce dropped his gaze and clapsed his briefcase closed. "The Teen Titans had an emergency. He left this afternoon."

"But I'll need help! This theft - it's a bird. Or, actually, it _was_ a bird..."

He ignored my pleas. "Alfred, bring the car around."

"...Or, really, just the wing of a former bird..."

"The Lexus, Master Bruce?"

"Yes."

"...So, I was thinking, it must be the Penguin!"

"Alfred! Take the Lincoln instead. I don't trust those airport parking lots."

"Yes, Master Bruce."

I sighed. "Are you listening to me?"

Bruce was pulling his coat on and seemed to pay me barely any attention. He picked up his briefcase then turned to me. "Barbara, I _am_ listening and all I hear are a lot of assumptions."

Oh, God, not this again.

"You can't jump to conclusions. It's a waste of time and could cause more problems. Let the evidence guide you."

Alfred pulled up in the black Lincoln.

"If the evidence trail runs cold, maybe a fresh pair of eyes will help. Tim and I might be out of town, but Dick is in Bludhaven and your dad's on the police force. Don't be afraid to use your connections." He climbed into the back seat of the car. "Have some confidence."

Confidence? Yeah, right. I can be confident in Advanced Calculus for a final. And I can be confident running into a cartwheel on the high beam then doing a double back flip into my landing. But be confident with no Batman, no boy wonder, and no butler?

"One more thing." He looked at me through the open window and I felt a glimmer of hope. "Don't forget to lock the door behind you." Then they drove off leaving me in the dust.

Thanks, Bruce. Let's just pour salt in the wound.

* * *

Batman said to use my resources. Okay. Resource number one: Daddy.

"Dad!"

"Pumpkin. What brings you to the station?"

I hugged him as he exited the interrogation room.

"You weren't home for breakfast."

"Oh, sorry, I must have lost track of time." He looked down at his watch, genuinely surprised by the time.

"That's okay." I held up a brown paper bag. "I brought the mu-shu to you."

I know what you're thinking. Chinese food at 9 o'clock in the morning? What weirdos. But our family doesn't live by the rules when it comes to breakfast, lunch and dinner. Expect pancakes and/or rice-a-roni at any hour of the day. Don't be afraid to add some jello and tomato soup to complete the meal.

But that's not the only reason I brought Chinese. It's the best way to get my dad to talk. I'm not sure if the lo mein is soaked in truth serum or the fried rice laced with a hallucinogen, but in any case, it can get my dad's mouth moving - and I don't mean just to digest the food.

"...Take this museum theif we picked up today." He took a bite from his eggroll. "Says he won't talk. He has 'nothin' to say to no coppers.' " Dad shook his head in annoyance. "His accomplice, on the other hand, cracked within the first hour." He finished the eggroll and moved on to the sweet and sour chicken.

"What did he say?"

"He admitted to being hired by a guy calling himself Frank Lynn."

"Frank Lynn?"

"It's an alias. Obviously. We were trying to figure out who for but the guy must not have known. You arrived just as I was finishing up with him. Perfect timing."

I smiled. Actually, I'd been waiting an hour and a half for Dad to finish up with him. It was perfect timing - but it was my timing that made it perfect.

"So, we're still in the dark as to who this Frank guy is, but we have a lead on the third perp."

"Oh yeah?"

Dad nodded, emptying the rice box. "Yeah. The three of them were supposed to make the exchange - money for the loot - at Robinson Park."

"When?"

"11:42 pm. They probably wanted to throw us off by having an abstract time."

"Tonight?"

Dad nodded.

"What's going to happen if two of them are behind bars?"

"We'll find out tonight. I'm heading the squad that will be staking out Robinson Park. Hopefully, we'll catch them in the act."

I knew I was going to be there too. Maybe I'll bring my camera and prove to Bruce that Penguin really is behind all this. I mean, the bird's wing, dumb thugs, "Frank Lynn"? It all just had this Penguin feel to it. Okay, maybe not the last two so much, but, come on. _A bird's wing?_ Classic Penguin.

Hmm... he'll be gone all weekend - Bruce, I mean - so I'll have to e-mail it to him - the pictures, that is - so, maybe I should bring my digital camera.

Dad opened his fortune cookie and read it aloud. " 'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.' " He looked at me. "Well, that's not very original. Open yours."

I opened it and read the little slip. " 'Don't jump to conclusions.' "

* * *

I was crouched in the bushes of Robinson Park for over an hour. It was cold and the Bat-suit didn't come with a sweater. My toes were numb, my fingers were stiff, and I just knew my legs would get their revenge tomorrow. I don't know why I didn't wear an extra pair of tights.

It was a quarter to midnight and the thug hadn't shown up yet. I know he's a thug, but they seemed to be punctual when it came to getting their paycheck. And with that exact time - 11:42 - being a factor, it wasn't right for this guy to be so late.

I decided to circle the park again. Maybe I'd see something I'd missed the last time. If nothing else, I'd give me an excuse to loosen my legs a little.

The park was empty besides the cops posing as late-night joggers and lovey-dovey couples among the benches. Trees. Paved walkway. Litter everywhere around but not actually _in_ the trashcans placed throughout the park. It was all typical-Robinson Park.

The sound of a speeding car driving over a manhole cover caught my attention. Not exactly the most startling event ever but this manhole was open. I thought back to when Bruce showed me those maps of Gotham's sewer system. (Seriously, that guy has maps of everything.) If I remembered correctly, there was a tunnel running right under the park!

I raced over to the manhole - still trying to keep my subtly at a maximum. I climbed down the ladder and into a foul smelling pit. No wonder Killer Croc was a criminal. No one with a right mind would want to live in this. Memories of my grandmother's foot rash rushed back to me with painful clarity as I recognized a resembling odor.

Delicately breathing through my mouth, I made my way down the tunnel. About 50 yards later, I discovered Thug One with my penlight. I knew it was him because of the bandaged right hand - done by yours truely - and my batarang sticking out of his pocket. He did look a little different since last time, though. 1.) He wasn't wearing a ski mask, so I took a picture that I could use later to ID him. And 2.) he had a bullet in his head. Even if he was wearing a ski mask, I doubt that was there last time.

I took a few more pictures then anomously called the cops. I had what I needed so they could take care of the rest.

Time to head back to the Bat-cave. This robbery just turned homicide and I still had no sure proof pointing to who was behind it all. I hope Bruce had his cell phone handy.

* * *

"Hey, Babs."

"Dick!"

I stood there with my jaw hanging open like a curtain swinging in the wind.

"You don't look so happy to see me."

Not true. Seeing Dick makes me very happy. I wouldn't mind _seeing_ him all the time. Dick Grayson was hot. Abs of steel. Chiseled face. Spandex. Hot. But when Dick picked his personality, he must've been at the back of the line. Nothing else could explain his cocky attitude.

(Hmm... that word kind of fits him doesn't it?)

"Bruce sent me to check up on you." He walked toward me because I was still frozen to my place. "You know, make sure you're in bed on time and everything." If that wasn't so demeaning, I'd have almost thought it was suggestive.

I smiled politely. "Of course. I can't be out breaking curfew." My eyes bulged and I put my hands to my face, Home Alone style. "What would my father think!"

He grinned. "Bruce also mentioned a robbery you're working on."

My face went blank and I saw Dick view this with concern. God, am I that obvious? Why don't I just post a sign to my head, "Babs screwed up big time!"

"What'd you do?"

I rolled my eyes. "Must you be so dramatic?"

"Babs? What happened? What did you do?"

I walked over to the computer and hooked up my camera to it. The pictures filled the screen. Dick looked at it.

"That guy looks dead."

"That guy was one of the thieves."

He took a breath. To be honest, this was all very un-Dick-like. I expected him to yell at me or something. Or maybe we just hadn't gotten that far in the conversation.

"Did this guy die during the robbery?"

"No."

"After?"

"Yes."

"When after?"

"During the exchange." I paused. "Probably."

He turned to me with red in his eyes. Oh man. This kind of explosion could be a fire hazard. Where did Alfred keep the nomex-suit?

"Probably! You weren't there!"

He said it more as an accusation then a question but I replied anyway.

"I wasn't there until after."

"After he died?"

"Yes."

"After our best lead died."

"Ye- Whoa. When did this become _ours?_"

"When you decided to let our best lead get killed."

Oh no. He did not just say that.

"Excuse me? Let him get killed? I did more than the police could do."

"You're supposed to."

"I did just what Batman would do."

"That's up for debate."

"I did nothing wrong!"

"Doing nothing is what's wrong!"

I tightened my lips and ground my teeth. Who does he think he is trying to judge me like this? Why is he berating me with these insinuations? As if I were some incompetent buffoon. Was he there? No. Did he take this expert photos? I don't think so. Was this his case? Never! Batman trusted me to solve this. Me! If he wanted his ex-flunky to do it, he should've asked him to do it.

When I relayed all this to Dick he just held his glare for several seconds and I wondered what kind of vile insults he would throw at me next. Eventually, he just relaxed into his usual, stoic expression.

"Jeez. Someone's getting a visit from Aunt Flo."

I could kill him. I really could.

* * *

We ran the dead guy's face through the criminal database. One hit: Carl Keeler.

Small time thug, big time gambler. He'd been convicted of numerous thefts and muggings and he'd undoubtly participated in numerous others not on file. This guy was Blackgate material. It was a wonder that he never ended up there. Maybe after this last one he would've. If he hadn't died, that is.

Dick and I were analyzing the photos I'd taken in hopes of some kind of clue. I told him about my Penguin idea but he just repeated what Bruce said.

"Don't jump to conclusions, Barbara. Follow the evidence."

Well following the evidence was putting me to sleep. I'd been up for over 24 hours and I could feel myself nodding off. Dick noticed too.

"Go to sleep, Barbara. You'll drool all over the keyboard."

I snapped back awake.

"No. I'm fine."

He looked at me sympathetically. Or maybe just pathetically. "Go to sleep, Barbara. I can take over for a while. I promise to wake you if I discover anything."

This was a nicer side to Dick and I was too tired to question it or fight him. I trudged off to the section of the Bat-cave full of beds. It was designed for recovering guests and the like. I don't think he planned on a sleep deprived sidekick to use it for a quick nap. And a quick nap was all I planned on taking, but when I finally awoke, the clock read 9 hours later and it seemed Nightwing had flown the coup.

Great. I don't know why I thought I could trust him. He still snuck ice cubes in my chicken broth when Alfred wasn't looking. I shouldn't have believed him when he said he'd wake me up when he found something. He must have. What else could explain his sudden disappearance?

I searched the screen for answers. Where was Dick? What had he seen? And then, like a lightswitch, I noticed the rag Keeler had used to bandage his hand with. It was blue. I know that doesn't really mean anything. I mean, you could get a blue rag any where, but it just made me think of auto repair shops. Actually, just one in particular.

When I was younger, I'd go with Dad to the auto mechanics in the upper west side of Gotham. It was a place called, "Bobby's Rag and Tone Shop." (It was connected to a tanning salon.) Dad would go in and talk to Bobby about what he needed done on the car plus the weather, sports - that kind of thing. I'd just hold Dad's hand and curiously look around the garage, absorbing the atmosphere. A handful of cars. Four or five sweaty mechanics. Bright blue towels.

"Computer, zoom in on grid B14."

It obeyed. I looked at the zoomed in image of the blue rag. Barely visible and partially missing, the black outline of a wrench was imprinted on the under flap of the rag. I couldn't help but smile with excitement. It was the same symbol Bobby put on everything in his garage, from the tools to the mechanics T-shirts. That included they're rags.

I pulled on a helmet and hopped on the Bat-cycle. I could still beat Nightwing there supposing he'd just left and didn't take the Nightbird. I tore out of the cave like... well, like a bat outta hell.

* * *

The streets weren't quite as I remembered them. Pavement was cracked and the sidewalk littered. Abandoned establishments had been grafittied and left for collapse. When I made it to Bobby's, I noticed it was severely underdeveloped. The scent of mildew plagued the empty garage still full of rustic cars and oil stained cement.

Dad had told me when Bobby died a few years ago. I was a senior in high school with more pressing concerns than the death of an old mechanic, but I remember Dad's dismay. He even attended Bobby's funeral. Thinking back, there really was no reason I shouldn't have too.

The shop was passed on to Bobby's son, Greg. Greg wasn't the man Bobby was. As I understood it, he had more passion for cheap alcohol and expensive women than his deceased father's business. But that's life and when Greg's excessive spending meant the collapse and end to "Bobby's Rag and Tone Shop," the building was abandoned.

At least it was believed to be abandoned, until the discovery of Bobby's rag with the body of a dead man.

I snooped around, taking a few pictures and gathering anything I thought looked suspicious into plastic bags for later analysis. Then I heard a door open and a dozen feet shuffle through the doorway.

"#&$ you! The Knights'll make a come-back. You'll see."

"All I'll see is the Knights having another one of them losing streaks we've been hearing so much about."

"Why don't you shut your $&# mouth!"

"Why don't you #$&$ make me!"

There was a short scuffle then a deep voice rang out.  
"Boys! Boys! Knock it off or I'll throw you both in Gotham Harbor!"

It was silent except for a few lighters flicking then the smell of burning tobacco drifted toward me. Personally, I prefered the mildew.

"So, boss, when was Carl supposed to get back?"

"Yesterday. He must've made the switch and run. Bastard. We'll comb every inch of Gotham and the surrounding cities. He ain't getting off that easy."

"What about Eddie and Don?" Thug Two and Thug Blue, I presume. "What are we gonna do about them?"

The boss replied in a mocking tone. "_What about Sonny and Cher? What are we gonna do?_ Nothing! They got themselves in that mess, they can get themselves out."

There was another silence.

"What if they rat us out?"

Gee, and here I thought these guys actually cared about their criminal friends. They just don't want to join them on the other side of the bars.

"They won't rat us out. They know what would happen if they rat us out." The boss made the sound of a gun firing with his mouth. Ick, I could hear the spit from that.

Suddenly, a hand covered my mouth and before I could flip the guy for sneaking up behind me, he whispered in my ear, "Shh... It's me. Nightwing." He let go and crouched beside me.

I frowned at him and whispered back. "Where were you? You said you'd wake me when you found something."

He looked confused. "I was sleeping in a cot a few beds from you. When I woke up, _you_ were gone."

Oops. I guess he didn't lie to me. "Oh. My bad."

"You got that right, girl." I looked up to find a heavy set man in his late 20s standing over us with a revolver in each hand. "Next time, you should leave the chit-chat in the cave."

He led us to the rest of the gang, two skeeves in biker jackets, a slimy creep shorter than Robin, a skinny greaseball, and a partridge in a pear tree. Well, actually the partridge was more like an oversized warthog and the pear tree a pinstripe suit. Typical filthy bunch of gangbangers with zero concept of working hard for your money.

Hmm... the boss - or who I assumed was boss - looked vaguely familiar.

"Bobby? I thought you were dead." I made a face. "The grave has _not _been treating you well."

His rough face contorted, making him even uglier. "I'm not Bobby! I'm not! I'm Greg! Greg Jannson! I don't even look like my dad, so quit saying I do!"

I thought about pointing out that he did in fact somewhat resemble his father, but he clearly had identity issues and I didn't want to make this guy any more hostile.

"Alright, Greg. Why don't you just calm down and-"

"Tell us why you killed Carl Keeler."

I looked at Nightwing. "Excuse me, I was doing the questioning here."

"Well, you were being a little slow about it."

"Slow?" What is wrong with this guy? "I was taking my time, okay? I think I know as much about this interrogation thing as you do."

"How do you figure?"

I glared at him keeping my mouth tightly shut. He knew I couldn't say it. I mean, when you're surrounded by bad guys, it's just a bad idea to announce you're the daughter of the police commissioner.

"Enough! Obviously neither of you know much about interrogation, because," he laughed and I cringed at the sound, "I have the upper hand."

Nightwing and I didn't hesitate. I threw a batarang at the lamp above us, drowning the garage in darkness. I could hear Nightwing, behind me, take out the thug who'd originally discovered us. I blocked, mimicked, and K.O.'d another couple of idiots. Nightwing did the same until the goons were unconscious around us with the exception of Mr. Greg "I don't look like my dead dad, even though I really do" Jannson.

Nightwing pulled him up by the collar of his fading, blue suit.

"Who was Keeler working for!"

"N-n-nobody. I swear."

Nightwing shoved him against a wall, then gruffly repeated the question. _"Who was Keeler working for!"_

"I-I..."

Nightwing tightened his grip.

"Frank! Frank Lynn!"

"We already know that. What's his real name?"

"I-I don't know."

Nightwing looked like he was going pound the guy into the wall, but Greg started to sputter again.

"But I know where he can be found!"

"Where!"

"The Iceberg Lounge." I could barely understand him because Nightwing had his hand wrapped so tightly around Greg's neck, but we heard it. My mind did a little jig. I was right! The Iceberg Lounge is Penguin's restaurant. It was clearly the Penguin who was behind all this. Just like I told Batman!

Nightwing dropped Greg into a pathetic heap and turned to me, all ferocity gone. "And that's how you do it."

He walked past me all nobly. What an $#.

* * *

I dressed in my best white and black evening gown - the same one I'd worn to my senior prom - and I strode into the Iceberg Lounge arm-in-arm with Dick Grayson - who looked faboulous in one of Bruce's old tuxedos, by the way.

"Mr. Grayson. Ms. Gordon. Where would you like to be seated?"

"Non-smoking section, please."

Dick and the hostess looked at me funny.

"Babs, every section is a smoking section."

I could feel myself turn scarlet.

"Oh. Of course. Anywhere would be fine, then."

She led us to a table for two just beside the rail. A few yards below us, we could see a Mexican beauty serenading the crowd.

"Look around for any suspicious characters."

I turned to Dick. "Are you kidding? They're all suspicious characters." I pointed to a guy several tables away from us. "Dad arrested that guy just last week."

Dick pulled my hand down. "Try not to make _us_ suspicious." He started to look around again - subtly, of course. I noticed his hand was still on mine even though I was no longer pointing. I wondered if that was intentional or if he just forgot about it. Whatever the case, I could feel myself blushing again at the thought that he might actually _want_ his hand there.

"Babs, are you feeling okay? You look feverish."

All my romantic thoughts went out the window - not that there was a window in this place. Just a lot of ice.

"No. I'm fine."

He removed his hand from mine to accept the glasses of wine we'd ordered. We couldn't actually drink it though. Technically, we were still on the job. I mentally sighed.

My eyes drifted across the restaurant, seeking other hopeless young women with uninterested, hot chaperons. Instead, I only saw happy couples, drinking out of each others' wine glasses and sharing each others' steak and potatoes.

Nope. Too bad, Babs. You're the only one here with an unromantic piece of work to sit across the table from.

My eyes suddenly stopped upon a pair of brutes in a far booth. One of them looked angrily across at the other guy. And the other guy held the Snow Owl's Wing.

"Dick." He turned to me. "About 30 yards away, in the corner booth," I whispered then dropped my purse. "Whoops. Could you-?"

"Of course." He bent under the table and came back up a second later with my purse. I knew he'd sneaked a look at the two guys in the corner booth. He gave me a look of confirmation.

"I think I'll just use the powder room. Order for me, will you?"

He nodded with the barest of smiles on his lips.

I went to the ladies' room but not to powder my nose. I checked to see no one was in there, then locked the door behind me. I couldn't have mobster's girlfriends tattling on my secret identity.

After I'd suited up, I crawled into the vent system, since it might look a little suspicious to come out the front door. Eventually, I found myself directly above who I'd assumed was Frank Lynn and his partner.

There was a speaker in the upper corner so I could only hear the gentle words of the senorita downstairs. I peered down at Frank, attempting to read his lips. His partner spoke first.

"...Owl's wing. You got... wrong... 70,000 dollars down... He won't... happy."

Great. So, now there's another guy?

"Please. I... under control. ...another guy... tonight. Just... second chance."

Frank was seriously sweating. Apparently, he'd majorly screwed up somehow and was pleading with this guy to let him to fix it. Good luck, Frank. This is the type of guy who would trade his mother's kidneys for a cigarette.

His next words were so clear I could've been sitting right beside him: "No second chances." The next thing I know, he's pulling out a pistol and aiming it at Frank's skull.

I lept out of the vent, tackling the gunman in a single motion. Frank hurried off, but I didn't worry about chasing him. I knew Nightwing would catch up with him in a heartbeat.

The mystery man raised his pistol up towards my chest and I kicked it away. It slid under another couple's table - not that they noticed in their haste to get away. I bent down and yanked the man's crisp, white suit. His breath stank of gin and stale peanuts. I ignored it and stared him in the eye.

"Why'd you order the theft of the Snow Owl's Wing? Who are you working for!"

He didn't look the least bit frightened. Instead, he took a swing at my head. I moved and he missed by half a foot. I thought I might return the favor. One swift hook to the jaw then a similarly hard jab with my knee to his chest - right where the ribcage ended. He was on the floor and gasping for air. I tried again.

"Who are you working for!"

"I... ain't saying nothin' to you, girl."

Okay, this is getting a bit ridiculous. I mean, I just beat the crap out of him and he still won't talk because I'm a girl? Do I need to get a sex-change to get some respect or what!

"Fine." I picked him up by the back of his jacket and threw him from table to table. "Oops. My hand slipped. Ouch. I hope that didn't hurt too much. Whoa. Did not mean to do that." Finally, my arms got a little tired and I gave him one final toss hoping he'd come to his senses. Instead, I guess he'd gone unconscious.

"What'd you find out?" Nightwing was suddenly there behind me.

"Uh..."

Police sirens could be heard getting rapidly closer. I looked down at the entrance and Oswald Cobblepot was flapping his arms and complaining about the wreckage. I was beginning to think it wasn't him.

"Meet me at the cave." He swung out the open, skylight window. I did the same.

Oh boy. I'm in _so_ much trouble.

* * *

"You did _what!_"

I hate being right.

"I accidently knocked him unconscious."

Nightwing was staring me down even though I was one inch taller than him. Incredible talent that guy has.

"How could you do that? We needed him to tell us who's behind all this."

"I'm sorry."

"I just- I-" He threw his clenched hands up in the air and growled in frustration.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to do that but he wouldn't talk. I just thought knocking him around a bit would, you know, loosen his tongue."

He put his hands on his hips and sighed. A vision of Mitch from Baywatch suddenly flashed in my head. You know what episode I'm talking about.

"At least we have the wing."

"No. We don't."

What?

"What?"

He looked at me. "We don't have the wing. I... tripped chasing after him. He got away."

It took me several seconds to fully develop this. I felt like a Windows 95 trying to load The Sims.

"He got away?"

Nightwing pulled off his mask and looked at me regretfully. "Yes. I let him get away."

I felt like doing a dance but I held back. I had to be the bigger man here - in a sense. "Alright. Then we just need to find another clue. Something else to point us in the right direction."

Dick seemed only too happy I was changing the subject.

"You said that guy told Frank he screwed up?"

I nodded.

"Maybe he wasn't after the wing."

It was silent while we thought. I remembered something the detectives were saying the night of the robbery.

"The diamond bird."

"What?"

"In the next room - of the museum, I mean - there was a bunch of flashy... jewelry type stuff. Among them was a diamond bird."

Dick nodded with understanding. "That's right. I read about it in the paper. It was a figurine made of diamonds. A snow owl figurine."

"So, Keeler stole the wrong bird."

"And was killed by Frank for doing it."

"But Frank said he could fix it. Did he mean he was going to steal the right owl tonight?"

"Could be. What time is it?"

"10:45."

"Let's check it out, just to be sure."

* * *

Nightwing and I snuck into the glimmering museum room and hid on opposite ends. He was crouched by the doorway and I was near the diamond owl.

I was impressed. I mean, I'm really not much of a jewelry person but this owl was beautiful. Diamond shards lined down the wings like real feathers. Bronze was used for the feet and gold for the beak. Tiny sapphires looked out from the bird's eyes. I understand why people would want to steal it. Not that I _would_, just now I get criminals a little bit better.

The guards crossed the room, unaware of Nightwing and I. Once they were gone, a dark figure loomed in the corner. He crept towards me - well, towards the bird. When I looked, Nightwing was gone from his initial position. I hadn't seen him move, and I didn't know where he was, but I was sure he wasn't far from the theif.

He edged closer... closer... I stood up and stepped into the moonlight streaming from the ceiling window. He saw me and turned to retreat. But Nightwing was there. He had no where to run. Nothing to do. Except answer to me.

"Closing hours were at 9. Didn't you see the sign?"

He looked warily at me but seemed more concerned with Nightwing. Typical.

"Hey." I jabbed his shoulder. "I'm talking to you."

"I know my rights. I don't gotta say nothin' to nobody without my lawyer."

I shoved my face close to his. "This isn't the police. You don't _get_ rights."

He looked a little scared - finally. "I-I..."

"Who sent you down here? Frank Lynn?"

He looked confused.

"Frank Lynn? Is this some kinda joke?"

Joke? Excuse me? Aside from the costume, did I look like I might be playing a joke?

"Uh... Batgirl..."

Hey, I didn't interrupt his interrogation.

"Not now, Nightwing. Who are you working for?"

"Batgirl!"

Good grief. King Tut better have risen from his grave.

"What?"

I turned to where Nightwing was pointing and saw that the diamond bird was no longer in its case. It was now in the hands of Frank Lynn. No black clothes. Not even a hood. I guess he thought wearing the ski mask was too demeaning for him.

I slugged the unknown culprit - so he could be dealt with the proper authorities - and he slumped to the floor. Nightwing was already fast after the fleeing Frank. I decided to take the high road. I grappled to the roof and raced for the side of the building. I swooped down just as Frank was racing out the door.

"Hey, Frank."

I actually got a little scream out of him. Not Jaws-worthy, but enough to boost my confidence.

"What'cha got there?"

He turned around and again, like a shadow, Nightwing was there.

"Now why don't you hand it over, nice and-"

Frank chucked the owl at me and ran down the alley. Nightwing chased after him, again, as I threw out my arm to catch it - the bird, that is. Lucky for me, I spent 4 years in Little League. That hand-eye coordination never wore out.

A pair of museum guards suddenly burst out the side exit and looked at me in startled confusion.

"Catch!" I tossed them the bird and raced down the trail of Frank Lynn.

I hadn't gone more than to the second intersection before I saw Nightwing standing in the streetlight. It looked like he was waiting for me.

"Where's Frank?"

He pointed up. I looked and there was Frank, strung up to the flag pole outside EastSide Bank.

"What are you Spider-man now?"

He smiled.

"He talked. We know who the big-shot is."

I waited, but he didn't say anything.

"Well? Don't leave me in suspense."

He shrugged. "It's the Penguin."

I was right! I _knew_ I was right! Take that Batman! I wasn't jumping to conclusions, I was following a hunch. I'm a police commisioner's daughter, for crying out loud. It's in my blood. Yes! I was right! I was _so_ right!

My glee must have shown on my face because Nightwing shook his head and said, "I know, I know. You were right."

Damn straight.

* * *

"Where's that bird? I've been waiting all day!" Penguin paced back and forth in front of his bar. "First a fight breaks out. Then my singer quits. I have no entertainment booked for tomorrow, you know."

"We know, Ozzy."

A nearly naked blonde draped her arm around Penguin's shoulders. A similarly _un_dressed brunette came up on his other side.

"You've had a hard day, Ozzy. You need some brandy." She held out a glass half-filled with the brown liquid and he took it.

"Thank you, dears. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Maybe pawn off that bird and spend the money to make bail?"

Penguin frantically looked around. "Who's there? Who said that?"

I jumped out of the shadows and onto the bar top.

"Batgirl? What do _you_ want?"

"I want your confession. You know, for hiring all those guys to steal the diamond owl for you." He tried to seem innocent by acting clueless. But I knew better and so did he. "Duh. That bird you were moaning and groaning about half a minute ago."

He raised his umbrella to my chest. "No one likes a bird who squawks."

"Hold it!"

Nightwing appeared behind him - Batman-style. (Gotta love it.)

"What is this? A family reunion? Get out of my restaurant."

When we stood our ground, he became defensive - well, _more_ defensive.

"Is that how it's going to be then? Fine. Charlotte. Isabelle. You take the bird and I'll handle the bat."

Oh my God. That line is getting terribly over-used.

The two women trapezed towards Nightwing, proving to be more than just sluts - not a lot more, but more. Penguin turned to me and poised his umbrella like a sword. Good, then it wasn't the bullet-shooting one.

We danced around each other like boxers in a ring, then Oswald thrust the blade-like end towards me and I twisted out of the way a second before he would've gutted me. I grabbed his out-stretched arm and used it to flip him on his back. He dropped the umbrella and I kicked it away from him.

"So, Ozzy," I heard a scream behind me and knew Nightwing was kicking butt, "About that confession." I took a seat on his chest and looked down at the sad oaf, sputtering for air. "What's that, Ozzy? I can't hear you."

"Get off me, you stupid girl!"

I took his monocle and swung it around a little. Then, without warning, I slapped him across the face with it. I left a long cut across his cheek.

"Ow! You $#$!"

"What's that?" I hit him again.

"I can't understand you." And again.

I swung it around, ready to hit him again, but he yelled out, "Stop! Stop! I confess already!"

"Confess to what, Ozzy?" The jury would need more specifics than that.

"I hired Frank Lynn to get somebody to steal the diamond owl in the museum! But my messenger never reported back because he was hauled out by you! You and those stupid police officers. I arranged the heist! I did! Me! And for all that trouble, I never even got that #$# owl!"

I patted Oswald on his clean, white vest. "Thanks, Ozzy. That's all we needed to hear." I gestured to the tape recorder I'd concealed in my utility belt.

I tied Penguin to a bar stool and looked for Nightwing. He was standing over two equally defeated women and another huge mess. It was bigger than mine earlier this evening, anyway. I guess they put up quite a fight.

The sirens could be heard in the not-quite-so-distant distance.

"We better jet."

Nightwing grappled out the skylight.

I pulled the little cassette out of the recorder. It was clearly labeled "Midnight Confessions - sung by Oswald Cobblepot." I set it on the marble counter and looked up. Nightwing was looking down at me, waiting.

I could definitely get used to that.

* * *

Bruce came home Sunday evening. He seemed glad to be back - if you could imagine Bruce glad.

"How did the robbery turn out?" he asked me, handing Alfred his coat.

"Fine. Turns out it was Penguin who was behind the whole scheme. Who woulda thunk it?"

Bruce ignored my sarcasm. "So, Oswald's behind bars?"

I didn't respond. I was still upset somebody in blue was paid off to get rid of the tape.

"Nope." Dick came up from behind me. "The Penguin seems to have wriggled out of another one."

"At least the other thieves have been arrested. And the diamond owl is unharmed and back in the museum."

Bruce raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "I though you said it was a petrified _wing._"

Dick and I exchanged tired glances. "It's kind of a long story."

"Well, in that case, I'll need you to type a report on it." I made a face. "Or at least file it on the computer." I grinned feeling like I'd won some sort of battle. Of course, I hadn't. Filing it on the computer was pretty much the same as typing a report, just without the use of a printer when I finished.

Bruce walked up the flight of stairs to his bedroom and Alfred followed, with the suitcases, not far behind.

It was uncomfortably silent between Dick and I. Neither of us moved. It seemed like we were both waiting for the other to go first. Finally, Dick spoke.

"Wanna go patrolling?"

"Sure." It beat the heck out of standing in Bruce's entryway.

It took hardly any time at all and the two of us were out on the rooftops. We witnessed a couple being mugged and swooped down to save them. A fight started up between two drunks outside a bar and we ended it. When a woman screamed "rape," we answered with ready fists. All in all, it was a very successful night.

We returned to the Bat-cave and above us were the sounds of Bruce beating some poor punching bag to a pulp.

"He doesn't miss a beat, does he?"

I pulled off my mask and gloves. "Nope."

We shared another uncomfortable silence and I fiddled with my fingers.

"Listen, Barbara." You could hear Bruce go "hmph" with each punch, in the background. Dick looked upward, annoyed, then looked back down at me. "I wanted to apologize. For being..." He seemed at a loss for words. I wasn't.

"A royal prick?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I guess I was trying to, you know." He pointed up. "Be like him."

"Oh, God, don't."

"I thought you liked Batman."

I shrugged. "I do. But I don't think the world needs more than one. _I_ certainly don't."

"Oh." He removed his mask and started walking away. What, did I hurt his feelings?

"Oh?" He stopped and turned back to me. "Have I wounded your pride, or something?"

He shook his head and put his hands on his chest dramatically. "No. Just my heart."

I slapped his arm. "Don't be a jerk."

He laughed. "I'm sorry. Do you want to go out with me sometime?"

I almost fell over. That was so random. Completely out of the blue. No way he just asked me that. Did he really just ask me that? He didn't just ask me that.

"I did just ask you that."

Did I just say that out loud? I didn't just say that out loud.

"Barbara." He halted my thoughts. "You can say 'no.' "

Yeah, right. And miss out on dating one of the hottest bachlors in Gotham - er, Bludhaven? I don't think so.

I smiled. "When will you pick me up?"

So, I guess this little misadventure wasn't a complete waste. I mean, Penguin's out of jail - a free bird - and I lost a little faith in the Gotham PD and I think I heard Tim snickering which means he probably listened in on our whole akward conversation, but I got a date with Dick Grayson. That definitely marks this one a success.

Now if I can just get Bruce to buy me that laptop I saw in the Best Buy ad.

* * *

Well, I hope you liked it. I'm free for compliments - oops - I meant comments. : )

Thanks for reading.


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